


tuck everlasting one shots

by lettersfromtherefuge



Category: Tuck Everlasting - Miller/Tysen/Shear & Federle, Tuck Everlasting - Natalie Babbitt
Genre: Multi, angus tuck - Freeform, jesse tuck - Freeform, mae tuck - Freeform, natalie babbitt, tuck everlasting - Freeform, winnie foster - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 23:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromtherefuge/pseuds/lettersfromtherefuge
Summary: bunch of tuck everlasting one shots cool





	tuck everlasting one shots

Winifred Foster was eleven years old when she met Jesse Tuck, and promised she’d drink the magical water to immortalizer her so they could live together forever.  
Winifred Foster was seventeen years old when she snuck out of her house at midnight, leaving only a note to inform her mother that she’d visit again in five years with her husband. She left her touch-me-not house and headed for Foster Wood, where she walked to the clearing and sipped from the water.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was twenty-two years old, still looking like a seventeen year old, when she and her husband, Jesse, walked back up the path of the touch-me-not-house to find a new family there. That was when she learned that her mother and nana had passed on during her five years of absence.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was a twenty-nine years old in a seventeen year old’s body and spending some time in Europe when Jesse surprised her with two tickets on the Titanic to go back home to the States. On the night of April fifteenth, Winnie and Jesse clung to each other and jumped from the upper deck of the luxury cruise ship as it sunk to it’s doom. Winnie watched as people, left with no other options other than drowning, jumped to their deaths into the beyond freezing North Atlantic Ocean. They watched, eyes wide with horror, as the screaming faded. The silence was worse than the screams.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was thirty-three years old when they watched their neighbors leave  
to war and never return, either dying from wounds or shellshock. Jesse stayed hidden in the house, Winnie telling anyone who asked that Jesse died from a mysterious illness years prior. After World War I, Jesse emerged and the couple moved to New York City.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was thirty-eight and still looking like a seventeen year old when her and Jesse adopted their first child. Her name was Kimoko, and she was an orphaned five year old girl from Japan. She grew up as Winnie and Jesse watched, and when Kimoko was twenty-nine, with her own husband and children. That was when Jesse and Winnie decided that, painful as it was, it was time to fake their deaths. The two faked an automobile accident and fled to Chicago.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was fifty-six years old when she and Jesse watched their neighbors starve to death during the Great Depression. They gave all the food they had to the neighborhood children, knowing that they could go without food for days, weeks, months. They’d get over their own hunger soon enough.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck watched on July sixteenth, crowded around her television with Angus, Mae, Miles, and Jesse as Neil Armstrong and his team became the first people to walk on the moon.  
“Out of all my two hundred and twelve years, this has to be the best thing that has happened.” Angus proudly told his family.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was seventy-nine years old as she stood proudly next to her one hundred and seventy year old husband at a rally, circa 1978. They were fighting for the rights of black people, women, and, much more personal to them, the gay community. The two had been set on coming to a rally ever since Jesse told his wife of the forbidden romance he had had between him and someone named Jack Kelly, a strike leader from the strike Jesse helped organize way back in 1899.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck, one thirty five years old, was helping Jesse cook dinner when Mae burst through their home in Treegap, New Hampshire. Come quick, she told them. Angus was dying. She stood near the doorway as her husband held his father’s hand. His once brown hair, streaked only faintly with light grey, had turned white and wispy. His smooth face was wrinkled with time. He was gone the next day.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was one thirty six years old when Mae Tuck started fading from life. Her vibrant red hair turned thin and white. Her green eyes turned dull and lifeless. Then, one day, she was gone. The day after she passed on, Miles packed up from Treegap and started working. He was accepted into Harvard Medical School, where he tested the water, day after day, to solve the family’s ‘illness’.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was one hundred and fifty two when Miles came to them in Santa Fe, telling them his discoveries. The water didn’t immortalize you, he said. The water only froze time, until you were two-hundred and sixty. He didn’t know why, he just knew it did. He just knew that his time, for the first time in forever, was limited. As was Jesse’s. As was Winnie’s.  
Winifred Foster-Tuck was one sixty five when Miles’ time was up. He laid in his bed, weak and unable to move. His jet-black hair and grown white, his skin saggy and wrinkled with age. His last words were, ‘Finally. I’m free.’  
Winifred Foster-Tuck, still trapped in her prime, was one sixty-nine years old when it was Jesse’s turn to be free, to hop back on the wheel. It’s a wheel, Winnie. He said, his voice course with age. His blonde hair was thinning, his eyes becoming dull and droopy.  
“Think of me, every time you climb a tree or get in trouble.” He smiled weakly at Winnie.  
“Everyday then.” Winnie promised. Then, he was gone. And Winnie still had ninety one years left.  
Winifred Foster was two hundred years old when she spent all the money she had saved up over the course of her lifetime on an around-the-world cruise. She thought of Jesse at the Brooklyn Bridge, the Pyramids, the Rio Grande, the Rhine… along with the Seven Wonders of the World, and the newly added eighth and ninth wonder.  
Winifred Foster, now two hundred and fifty six years, eagerly awaited the year she would turn two hundred and sixty, so she could join her husband, mother-in-law, father-in-law, brother-in-law, father, mother, nana, and adopted daughter in whatever stage came after life.  
Winifred Foster lay in her mother’s old house in Treegap, New Hampshire, in her old bedroom which hadn’t changed. She hugged a picture of her and Jesse to her chest as she teared up. Her wrinkled hands gripped the picture frame, her curly red hair now white. Her ceiling seemingly opened up to her, a golden staircase escalating upwards into a glowing white light. Jesse stood at the top, seventeen again. She sat up, turning back at her peaceful-looking body as she smiled.  
She was free.


End file.
